Ai No Kusabi  The Ties That Bind
by ElegantPaws
Summary: Riki and Iason finally come to terms with their past in a wholly unexpected way.
1. Chapter 1

**The Ties That Bind**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: _**Iason/Riki, Raoul/Katze**_

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **1 of 7**

**Reviews are fuel.**

Chapter One – _**Omnia Vanitas**_

The tinted windows of the limousine diffused the golden rays of the morning sun enhancing in its shimmer that exquisitely sculpted face in a delicate caress of blue gray hues. Symmetry, simply perfect symmetry whose lines were impeccably caste in harmony reminded Katze of a sculpture.

Iason was a study of inhuman perfection, his pore-less skin incandescent. It was almost as if the skin of that exquisite face had been lit from within, framed and enhanced as it was with a wealth of opalescent silvery strands that billowed slightly with the shifting winds of the partially opened window.

Katze's veiled amber eyes returned their distant gaze to the vistas before him deep in thought. He heard the deep inhalation and levelled another meditative, sidelong glance at the preternaturally flawless and wholly self contained being across from him.

He could wait. His initial fears having been allayed. Not once had there been a threatening move since being forcefully yet carefully thrust into the back of the vehicle. Perhaps the gig was not up. He would wait for the opportune moment to query. This wasn't it. Given as Iason was to quixotic bouts of intense anger, there was no point in getting on his Excellency's bad side now.

Not that is until he had evaluated all the possible outcomes of this little trip.

Iason's stillness was palpable to the ex-Furniture and discomforting however. Though the familiar face wore its usual implacable cloak of indifference, the shifting blue gaze that he felt occasionally pass over his own stoic visage was rife with tumult and speculation. He too was waiting.

The black market dealer almost smiled ruefully; stalemate.

Each carefully slow inhalation of his former Master bespoke a question to Katze's well trained ears. This was not the time to give an inch, to supplicate.

Another breath which almost demanded a response from the dealer, but none came from the object of Iason's growing frustrated study. Once again, the moment passed as Iason returned the pale blue intensity of his gaze to the passing scene, his lips thinning markedly.

It really was Katze's move.

"Mind if I smoke, your Excellency?"

"If you must," Iason answered dispassionately, flicking a gloved finger in the direction of the ex-Furniture feigning ennui. "No questions then about our destination?"

The mongrel shook his head slowly and lit his retrieved smoke before inhaling as he adjusted his window. It was subtle but there would have been a time not so long ago when he would have felt it incumbent to ask permission to take such a liberty in so august a company.

No point now.

Pointedly the mongrel shifted his reclined pose and elegantly blew smoke through the window, his eyes watching the gossamer like strands shift and weave there way rapidly away from sight, peripherally noting the golden glow of the retreating towers as the vehicle turned heading for a familiar artery. Funny, they should have gone further than this by now. It was almost as if they were taking a circuitous route, if so why and to where exactly? The hallowed sanctum was in the other direction.

"Nope, I trust you have your reasons, Sir Mink. It is never for me to question said, considering we have been travelling via the scenic route. I simply assumed you were making sure we have not been followed. The fact that the usual retinue of security has kept their distance sufficiently to remain virtually undetectable implies this clandestine meeting about to take place will end one of two ways."

That deep exhalation again followed by palpable silence before a curt nod of acknowledgement.

"Ahh yes, ever the astute one, Katze, well played. One tends to marvel at how succinct and mindfully accurate you are in your surmises with just a hint of prudent retreat for good measure. How _does_ Raoul tolerates this irritating aspect of your nature, I wonder?"

Katze bowed. It has been a calculated guess on his part, based on years of knowing the eclectic and mercurial male across from him.

"Jupiter commands an audience with you of all things. I am merely facilitating this atypical request."

The term 'things' had not been lost on the mongrel and his lips pursed briefly, acknowledging the intended slight for his former Master's benefit.

"Of course, your Excellency, I will do my best. Is there something I should know about this coming encounter? Something I should be prepared to address?"

Katze could feel the penetrating stare upon his face; hear the shift of long elegant limbs crossing as the Elite weighed the merits of his next question, for surely it was a question based upon the protracted length of time Iason was taking in order to gauge his true feelings about this unprecedented rendezvous.

Jupiter had never chosen to communicate with one such as he before, at least not willingly.

The dealer felt a cold chill pass through him and he involuntarily shuddered before adjusting his jacket. How odd, just as it came it went quickly replaced by soothing warmth emboldening his confident stance.

"As in?" Iason intoned, pale eyes glittering coldly as he watched those long fingers return to the mongrel's lips with the filter tip. For just a moment there, Katze had been off his game before the shroud of abstract stoicism returned to his perfectly imperfect face.

"No disrespect intended, your Excellency."

Iason inclined his head indulgently. Mongrels, a most fascinating sub species so filled with chaotic emotions that even the truly adept of their breed could fall prey when least expected. "Go on."

"Call it a gut feeling but this meeting pertain to Sir Am, doesn't it? I would not wish our current understanding to ill affect your most trusted confidante, Iason."

The dealer saw the subtle shift of expression in the flawless countenance as pale lips quirked in victory. Katze had used his given name intentionally.

"I am genuinely intrigued, Katze. Why do you hold such," another lengthy pause as the Blondie chose his words carefully and adjusted his silken tone to elicit a false sense of bonhomie, "fascination for Sir Am and, for that matter, he you?"

Katze turned, golden eyes regarding the Elite curiously beneath long lashes. He flicked the spent butt through the window, gathering his thoughts.

"Might I dare to ask the same of you, Sir Mink?"

Iason's frame became instantly rigid. He glared threateningly down his nose in censure at the dealer. "I beg your pardon, Katze? You are on the verge of overstepping."

"I meant Riki, your Excellency, certainly not Raoul Am."

"Not up for discussion, Katze, rephrase immediately. You are in no position to query my predilections, regardless of the leeway I have allowed in our dealings. Do remember who is whom in this conversation."

It was Katze's turn to bridle subtly, his pale features assuming a stony cast as the Elite continued.

"I am not Raoul, who appears to have lost all sense of propriety when it comes to his dealings with your less than subtle tongue in matters of innuendo."

Katze lowered his head, feigning obeisance as he assumed a suitably contrite expression.

"That won't work either, Katze. Answer the question." Iason snapped softly, shooting his sleeves with finality.

"We all know attraction cannot be easily explained or dismissed, your Excellency. It just is, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. Sir Am and I have been doing this dance for years now. At least we have come to some semblance of peace with it, more than can be said for many in the given situation."

Katze watched as Iason visibly recoiled not in body per say but of mind, pale lips thinning to a menacing line as his lower jaw worked subtly beneath smooth ivory skin. Too close to home. Why hadn't he stopped himself? Ahh well, it needed to be said. However, he would choose his next words more carefully, survival being what it was. If nothing else, he needed to protect Raoul.

The dealer shrugged, his shoulders slowly slumping as he chuckled, not sharing the thought within that saw a quizzical silvery brow raise in confusion.

"I won't give it a name, Sir Mink, but it has a tendency to mess with one's logic and makes you do all kinds of things you never imagined you would. So yes, if put to it, I want to protect Raoul Am. He means everything to me."

Iason pursed his lips, growing uncomfortable under the knowing golden gaze. "Wholly irrational response, considering. I expect better of you."

The dealer sighed and lowered his window again, looking out blankly into space. Donovan and Kato would know what to do when sufficient time had passed and he didn't login.

"Sorry to disappoint, your Excellency. Don't feel like being clever right about now. Tell me what to expect, if that is not too much to ask. I don't suppose I'll actually be returning from this appointment, another gut feeling."

"Interesting, no intriguing actually," Iason murmured softly. "I never took you to be selfless."

Katze never bothered to respond as they entered the darken tunnel, too busy with his own internal preoccupations to bite. He had been right. They were heading back all along via a circuitous tunnel system towards what was euphemistically called the Cathedral.

He had brought Iason here often enough to recognize the route. Ironic really that this time, would be the last time and all for an exceptional fuck, he chided himself. It would be the eyes he would miss, they spoke volumes. A man could be lost in the depths of those warm, verdant pools and the calming breath and giving nature of the body that would be nothing but a pleasing memory soon.

**~~~TTTB~~~**

Genuine leather, nothing smelt like it. Nothing felt like it against the skin.

Riki smirked while his fingers smoothly guided the zipper up adjusting the snap of near on leggings with how indecently they clung to his wiry, well proportioned limbs.

Nice fit if he said so himself.

Yeah, these were fuckin' perfect. They should be; made to order, black as midnight and supple to the touch. Say what you would about that overgrown psycho prick, he made sure Riki wanted for nothing, except freedom.

Gone were the days of the imitation shit created in labs and sold for an Elite's ransom by those makeshift, nomadic vendors that frequented Ceres' side streets of a night. Hawking their wares to the unsuspecting.

The dark mongrel winked at his reflection vaguely amused by a passing thought. When had he actually bought a pair? Try never. No need really with Bison's exceptional ability to negotiate through intimidation.

Amazing the kind of understanding that could be wrought with a knife just so at a dealer's throat, usually Guy's.

Riki efficiently pulled his black tee over his head and perched at the end of the bed, legs wide splayed. Needed to get some flex into the leathers for comforts sake, his eyes wandered to his boots neatly aligned by Cal. Finally the damn man had given up placing them in the closet, after they were unceremoniously kicked off each night, falling where they may to Iason's perpetual annoyance.

Compromise at least with one member of the household, of late he had not felt the need to have them go sailing across the room choosing instead to toe them off and pretty much place them in the same spot, sparing Cal the task of neatening.

They sat dutifully against the wall each morning, scuff marks and all. Iason hated them with a passion, probably why Riki loved them. Still got a kick over Iason's impotent glares each time his eyes fell upon them, willing them to die a most painful death for offending his aesthetic sensibilities.

Riki chuckled. Iason really had no idea how funny he was and how easy it was to put his nose out of joint for the simplest things. Like the one time he had deigned to show up with his retinue at the club to find Riki in a grudge match over the pool table with credits on the line. Okay so he'd been three sheets to the wind and somewhat inclined to being flirtatious with the rival player, but what the fuck was he doing there anyway?

It was the sudden silence in the smoky back room why he'd looked up into blazing irises. For a moment there it looked like he was for it, then he remembered the cause of the intent gaze, as liquid blue rage shifted its focus from his face to the tanned hand resting casually about the shoulder of one of Katze's female stable.

Considering the Mimea incident which had started the feud with Raoul in the first place, definitely had not been wise. Even today, the fucker had a way of looking at him sideways which told the dark mongrel all might have been forgiven but not forgotten.

The dark mongrel shivered involuntarily.

Fuck that had been a hard couple weeks, never quite sure when Iason's towering rages would get the better of him in payback.

Riki stood and padded across the bedroom in his socked feet to the boots, sliding his feet into them, comforted by the well worn fit. They had seen better days and did nothing for the outfit but they'd do.

Maybe he'd indulge today. Find a vendor and actually pay for a new pair. None of the costly shit in the Atrium appealed anyway; too fancy, too soft and definitely not riding gear.

What he needed was in Ceres.

A sable brow arched at the tanned reflection with evident amusement in dark eyes as he pondered the reality of his past transactions, if you could call them that. It was the cost of doing business to offer samples of the lukewarm merchandise the vendors had heisted. The way Riki's crew saw it nothing more than an equitable means for the dealers to secure their pitch for another week before moving out of Bison territory.

Yeah, those were the days. You took what you needed; end of.

He gave one final cursory glance in the mirror and nodded absently.

You really did get what you paid for.

"Cal!" Riki shouted, cutting short the disturbing thought, _at what price_?

He needed to get out, maybe check in on Katze. Red should be back at the club by now. Surely Iason would not protest? Hell, he wouldn't protest the mandatory dumb shits that followed behind his bike for security's sake. Might give them the ride of their lives even and break up the monotony of their day by flouting the speed limit.

Riki sniggered to himself imagining the white knuckle grips on the steering wheels in hot pursuit just as Cal appeared in the room with a suitably inquiring expression.

"I'm going out for a bit, alert the crash test dummies."

Cal inclined his head, looking somewhat relieved at the prospect. The Mongrel had been underfoot in the last hour, wholly abandoning his usual perch on the balcony and upsetting the morning routine by following him about as he saw to his household routine. It was the incessant questions that had nearly driven the Furniture to distraction about the ex-Furniture and more to the point, the whereabouts of the Master.

"The Atrium, Sir Riki?"

"Nah, _Depraved, _too boring around here. No one to talk to, no offence, Cal."

"Understood. None taken, Sir Riki."Cal blinked rapidly as he hemmed and hawed. "Not that it is my place Sir, but the Master did not take kindly to your last..."

"Yeah, I was there, Cal, remember? No repeat performances, I promise. My ass can't take it. I'll be back in a couple hours. No big deal. Stop worrying."

The Furniture flinched at the too personal addendum. He did not wish to recall the night in question. As importunate as this Mongrel was, he was disarmingly likeable and relatively good company when not overly inquisitive. The young man was bored and listless. He understood the need for something to occupy his time. Permission had been previously granted for such interludes.

"I'm allowed and won't overstay my welcome this time, so relax. Might even beat him back; by the way, did he mention where he was going in such a hurry this morning?"

Riki watched through narrowed eyes the nervous fretful motions of Cal's fingers as they clasped and unclasped, dead giveaway. He damn well knew where Iason was. No point pressing. He'd find out soon enough. He really needed to see Katze, more than ever. Iason had been all kinds of wrong this morning almost twitchy in his regard and ridiculously compliant.

"It's a good day for one of your outings on that beast, Sir Riki. Enjoy. Please be back in a timely fashion. I will alert your security detail."

Riki nodded, dark eyes fixed on the troubled features before him as he retrieved his weathered leather jacket from the foot of the bed and followed the Furniture out into the main living space. Where Cal retrieved the recent gift of the monitored collar and handed it to the less than amenable Mongrel who grabbed it and affixed it about his throat with a bland expression.

_Well it was either that or the cock ring._

He'd learnt to pick his battles and anyway, it looked kinda hot.

"Yeah, you do that."

Absently he patted down his jacket with furrowed brows. "Seen my Com anywhere? I could have sworn I left it in the pocket."

"Ahhh yes, I apologize for not having recharged it. Afraid it is quite useless at the moment, Sir Riki. Might I be allowed to offer you my own? Limited as its frequencies are, it should suffice in the interim."

"S'okay, never mind. No harm done."

Oh fuck yeah, something was up. Was it a co-incidence that Iason had been hovering over the jacket earlier when he had come back into the bedroom? Hell no!

**~~~TTTB~~~**

Warm, fragrant tea; there really was nothing like it to soothe frayed nerves.

Each sip a respite in stilted conversation; a moment to think, to adjust tone as one interspersed pleasantries to disguise the thrust and parry of sharpened wits currently borne upon a knife's edge.

Sir Niiro was not having a good day.

Not that it would be readily apparent to untrained eyes. No. To the shallow, those easily distracted, he looked unperturbed.

Carefree in fact, heartily amused by his own word play which apparently was falling on deaf ears in the less than companionable silence that followed each flippant barrage meant to appease and or cajole.

Raoul was having none of it, choosing instead protracted silences to still the mindless prattling before picking up where the Chief Medical Officer of Tanagura left off in his inquiry.

"How convenient for Sakura, under the circumstances wouldn't you say, Sir Niiro, this sudden uncharacteristic need for off-world amusements and pointless distractions? I have always perceived him as a lab rat myself, never more content than when dissecting something, preferably alive."

The Ruby beamed pleasantly over the rim of his cup and shrugged indolently. "Much prefer Nii Nii myself. It adds a certain _joie_ to an otherwise less than amiable repartee, don't you think, Raoul?"

"You will suffice, Nii Nii. He is, or should I say was, your protégé after all."

A pointed silence followed as both Elites glared at one another for a fraction of a second.

Sir Niiro inclined his head decorously before taking another delicate sip. "Much better, even if I resent the implication of your verb tense. You were saying, dear boy?"

"What of the three bodies in question one of which was obviously, my Katze."

A flash of a long braid, brought round and twirled expertly, indicated Raoul had hit the mark, he continued.

"I base my conjecture on your own verbose outburst the other night. If I might hazard an educated guess the other two were Riki and one assumes Guy, the bane of Iason's existence?"

Sir Niiro huffed, placing the delicate porcelain cup upon his knee and glowered, still twirling the end of his thick braid, but more slowly now as he strove for time. There really was no way to avoid the subject at hand.

Raoul reached for his own untouched cup on the low table and settled back awaiting the tirade to come. Nii Nii was nothing if not predictable when he did not get his way in a conversational gambit, might even prove amusing to watch the drama unfold.

"Why must that tiresome little plaything of yours infest every conversation we have of late? What of social pleasantries, Raoul? What of manners?"

The Chief Medical Officer sighed and sniffed the fragrant brew contemplatively.

"The fact that you remain upright sans contusions and very much in control of your mental faculties, ie waspish wit, should suffice re observed niceties. Don't push it, Nii Nii."

That bitter bit of tannin was pleasing to his tongue. He really must see about complimenting Deek for his morning choice of tea. Raoul swallowed and dabbed his lips with the pristine white napkin before refolding it one handed and placing it upon his knee for emphasis. Most pleasing indeed, even the temperature was just right. Deek had surpassed himself, but then again, his favourite guest was about the premises.

"Well? I'm waiting."

Sir Niiro abruptly stood, spilling his tea.

Raoul wagered intentionally so as to shift the medical man's focus. True to form the elegant dark clad being began to stalk in front of the floor to ceiling windows with evident irritation at being countered.

Emerald green eyes hooded. Katze would have called this move playing for time. He could out wait this pique. Sir Niiro's current fit was worth savouring. He would leave him to stew to flavourful perfection.

The caged beast currently stalking the library while glaring out the floor to ceiling windows was on the verge of stewing, his vituperative mouth a thin line in an otherwise exceptionally beautiful face.

Raoul gracefully rose and retrieved the fallen cup, placing it silently on the low table, before retrieving a fresh one, time to pour and get this conversation back on solid ground.

"Nii Nii? Are you quite done with your...moment or do you require a few more minutes to plot before chastising my methods?"

A whirl of dark silk and piercing eyes raked the Blondie up and down hatefully.

"I do have a few pressing appointments this morning. So if we could continue without the tedious obfuscating, it would be appreciated."

"Yes! Damn you! If you must know of course they were! Neither of you seemed all that interested at the time, so bent on your little game of discovering flaws in the curricula. Why so bloody interested now?" the Ruby shot back accusingly, gloved fingers digging into the back of the couch with rage.

Despite his hackles being raised, Raoul had to admit it was a valid question that merited a response. The irony of Riki's presence in Iason's household had not been lost on the Chief Medical Officer. What would Iason have done differently had he known a simply inquisitive theory would come back to haunt and share his bed a decade later.

"Things have changed. One gains perspective with the passage of time. We, none of us, knew where the anomaly might lead."

The Ruby snorted indelicately. "Not quite, dear boy. One's lower extremities have found a pleasing sheath for the immediate that just so happens to coincide with my findings. Lest you forget, you left it to me to do the tedious exploring, refusing to take part for fear of censor."

Raoul pursed his lips, refusing to be baited as the Ruby rounded the couch with an air of disgust and fatigue etched cold amber eyes absently looking about the room eventually falling upon the silver box atop the desk, its lid tightly closed.

"Still closed I see," he murmured to no one in particular as he sat, a rueful smile playing about his lips.

Momentary, perhaps even an illusion but Raoul could have sworn he saw inconsolable loss, nay sadness marring that perfectly aquiline visage before that diffident gaze returned to Raoul's own.

"Everywhere I look, he's there. I wish to Jupiter and back his ilk had been left to rot on Remus as intended."

"Meaning?" Raoul snapped, placing his now empty cup upon the table.

"Meaning, Raoul Am, this disgusting travesty of an inquisition could well have been avoided had personal vanity not entered the equation. A waste of a mind bent on seeking your collective approval and for what?"

For the first time Raoul noticed the Ruby's hand shook as he raised the cup to his lips. Still, only one word chosen word struck him by implication.

"Intended?"

Amber eyes danced as they examined the dregs in the bottom of the cup before returning it to the scarred wooden table.

"Yes, Raoul intended. That didn't take long. You are very much on your game, my dear."

The Blondie's brows worked in consternation as he leaned forward. "Who intended, exactly, Nii Nii? You speak in riddles. No more games."

A soft dejected huff left well formed lips, even the eyes that had looked accusingly before lessened in its malice, becoming almost haunted as they examined gloved fingers, spotting the taint of the previous spill with bemused brows.

"Fact. I am going on hired hearsay, Raoul Am. That of men unused to divulging their methodologies for retrieval or disposal once assigned a task."

"Yes, go on."

Sir Niiro bit his lower lip, still studying the stain upon his glove.

"Men like this rarely indulge in fantasy. They are not inclined to make fatuous statements that might call their abilities or state of mind into question."

The Blondie nodded impatiently, biding the Ruby go on.

"Sakura was the first to inform me of their consistent debriefs verging on superstitious twaddle. I dismissed it, putting it all down to humanoid predisposition for trifling fantasy that is often found in the less educated members of the Commonwealth's citizenry."

Raoul heart leapt into his mouth. "The organic variety of the humanoid species does show this tendency for things they cannot rationally explain, yes?"

The Ruby pursed his lips as he organized his thoughts, removing the soiled glove as an afterthought, while studying Raoul's implacable expression.

"True and hence I quelled my own suppositions putting down their recall to the fear of the unknown. Hmmm, anyway, I could no longer dismiss the consistencies in the reports."

"Out with it, Nii Nii! Stop trying my patience. What were their findings?"

Sir Niiro ignored the outburst as ungloved fingers snapped. "Suffice it to say, dear boy, you should consider your thawed plaything some manner of revered relic come to life, if how he was entombed was anything to go by in his youth. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to preserve him."

"What?" Raoul rose abruptly, almost overturning the coffee table and its contents.

Sir Niiro tutted and crossed long limbs with satisfaction. Finally the shoe was firmly planted on the other foot, Raoul was in shock.

"I think we should have Deek bring through another pot, don't you? You look in need of something to put a bit of colour in those cheeks of yours and as for myself, feeling a bit peckish. Didn't have time for breakfast, what with having to roam hither and thither before the crack of dawn, don't you know?"

The Ruby patted the couch companionably before regarding his fingers in genuine curiosity.

"Raoul, have you ever noticed how exceedingly gratifying touch is without gloves?"

All he heard was the studied trill not individuated words.

Sir Niiro was suddenly in fine fettle, if his tonality was anything to go by. Somehow Raoul sat. Deek came in, more chatter and unctuous preening on both their parts. The wretched Furniture had always had a soft spot for the Ruby, Jupiter only knew why.

Distantly Raoul heard the click of the door behind the Furniture and the clink of cutlery at his side. He'd always known something was off with his Katze and as for the others. Well, it explained much. Conjecture had just become fact. What to do with it however and more to the point, he needed to speak with Iason, who still remained out of the loop.

"Finally I can get a word in edgewise and it proves no fun, pity."

Somewhere in the fog that had overtaken his usually rational mind, Raoul recognized the upward lilt of a questioning tone. Sir Niiro expected a response. He watched in stupor as a fork went to the pale lips that were smirking as were the radiantly malevolent eyes drinking his expression in.

"As I was saying, would it be too much to inquiry about that other little relic upon your desk? Amusingly enough it is how I made the connection with your Mongrel. It belongs to the tiresome wretch, if you can believe it."

"What connection?" Raoul murmured still in a daze.

Sir Niiro delicately tapped the tines of the fork against his lower lip as he mused.

"Yeeeeeeeees, most disconcerting; imagine my chagrin upon discovering its actual existence and the implications of it for all our kind, if those oft told tales in Ceres are true. Turns out those pathetic little legends might have some semblance of validity hitherto thought nay impossible. It could explain quite a bit as to our Maker's disposition to the _Naturals_ and why certain strains still occur despite our best attempt at curtailing their evolution beyond servility. It is not in actuality a musical device. I have yet to be able to open it successfully without damaging it. Seems to require some form of bio-signature, haven't quite worked that out yet or its actual origins. All I know is that it belonged to the First One, a fact most probably known to our circumspect Jupiter."

Raoul blinked and thought better of volunteering what had happened while in Kato's presence and for that matter a few hours before with both his and Katze's fingers had been intertwined atop the antiquated device.

An artfully malicious moue curved into a sneer. "And if the current look on your face is to be believed, you are aware of this fact, too Raoul. It is your turn to share, purely from a scientific perspective of course, my dear."

"I have nothing to add at this time."

Sir Niiro chewed, forking another moist morsel, studying the confection on the tines of the fork as he mused aloud.

"I know. Makes one pause doesn't it? Here we thought ourselves the pinnacle of humanoid existence and imposed evolution, the Chosen. Could it be we are just the actual experiment currently favoured? All remade to order setting to right a defect."

The Ruby shrugged lazily. "Well, a perceived mistake made by the unfortunates of the Abyss' crew, never to be repeated. Again, just conjecture on my part. Being outcast has its merits; gives one time to think, my dear."

"But we are the higher order on this planet, we rule by Jupiter's auspices. No others come before us."

Sir Niiro nodded absently as he chewed.

"Yes and what of the fodder or the avaricious citizenry, happily deluded in their mercenary pursuits that serve only one and allowed to breed as reward, but none too much; what of them Raoul Am?"

Raoul pursed his lips, "Your point?"

"When all is said and done whom do we serve, Raoul? What is our collective purpose? Have you never thought to question the order of things, then again, why would you?"

"What a ridiculous question, we serve Jupiter's beneficent will. This line of conversation is over."

"Yes, but to what end? Are we not fodder too just with a better view?"

"Chew on that for a bit." The ingenuous pat upon his knee meant to comfort made Raoul stay the urge to recoil. "The question was rhetorical, dear boy. Process while I finish this scrumptious bit of sin your manservant has provided. You haven't a clue what an absolute treasure, Deek is; One in a million, that man of yours."

For once Raoul was thankful for Sir Niiro's incessant babbling and frippery. Katze had been entombed. It begged two questions, why and by whom? There was no point in pursuing the thought in the current company bent on twisting the emotional knife.

A gentle apologetic rap came to Raoul's hearing as Sir Niiro turned expectantly and regarded the door only to be greeted by the sight of Deek and the importunate dark mongrel who sidled around him without any by-your-leave, onyx eyes fixed on Sir Niiro, a fraction longer than was strictly polite before gliding over Raoul's face with narrowed, speculative eyes.

Raoul rose defensively, not appreciating the suspect gaze of the Mongrel.

"Good morning, Riki. What may I do for you?"

"Forgive the interruption, Sir Am, was wondering if you knew where Katze was headed this morning. Neither Donovan or I are able to raise him on his Com."

Riki's expressive eyes fixed upon Sir Niiro meaningfully. "I'm assuming he's left, considering present company?"

"Touche, little mongrel, the collar about your neck becomes you. One should always see about keeping rabid dogs tethered. Where is your Master by the way? Should you not be asking this question of him?"

Snorting softly, Riki let the comment pass as he leaned against the wall and glared. "Good one, Sir Niiro, don't make me hold you up or anything."

"Riki..." Raoul intoned warningly, nodding for Deek to leave as he reached for his own personal communication device and hit speed dial with a fluttering heart.

No response.

Turning towards Raoul, the Ruby rose and inclined his head with feigned decorum, noting the fretful green eyed gaze focussed on the Com, his own presence completely forgotten.

"I believe that is my cue to exit."

Raoul nodded indifferently. "Deek, see about his things. Riki come through."

Malicious amber eyes gazed at the pensive Blondie in the middle of the room before turning their slow venomous appraisal to the dark mongrel propped against the door's frame, blocking his path.

If looked could kill indeed, Deek thought.

"You really should see about getting your willowy plaything something similar, but a tad less gauche in appearance. He has, though I am loath to admit it, some semblance of taste in his chosen attire, unlike some given to common display."

"Speaking of common displays, Sir Niiro, who does your hair?" Riki added lazily as he moved out of the Ruby's way, very slowly.

Raoul looked up with an exasperated sigh. The Mongrel existed to play with fire.

"That is quite enough, Riki. Just come through and sit. We will get to the bottom of this. Good day, Sir Niiro. Thank you for keeping our appointment. We are in no way done with this conversation."

Sir Niiro huffed and pocketed his soiled gloves. Raoul hadn't even bothered to observe the civility of seeing him out, too distracted about his wretch; unconscionable how both men, mongrel and Elite were now more concerned with the small monitor being held in Raoul's gloved hand.

"He should have reached the Club by now, Riki. I do not understand."

Dark eyes became fretful as they looked up into worried sea green. "Me either and I can't raise Iason. Think they're together?"

Raoul gritted his teeth. "Possibly. I can only hope your conjecture proves right. He mentioned no such assignation before he left this morning."

**~~~TTTB~~~**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Ties That Bind**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: _**Iason/Riki, Raoul/Katze**_

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **2 of 7**

_**Reviews are fuel**_**.**

Chapter Two – _**The Ghost of Jealousy**_

The deafening thrum of his heartbeat with each step down the narrow, sparsely lit hallway adjoining the public gallery had his senses on full alert, even as they rapidly moved towards the vaulted ceiling that welcomed the light of day in the main galleria, which would have to be traversed first.

Iason stopped abruptly and looked about, pale irises wholly indifferent to the surroundings, yet speculative of the odd passerby.

Though indistinct to the ear of the average mongrel, the hushed, well modulated voices and softly affected titters in response gave Katze pause, as he scanned his surroundings instinctively with a narrowed glare.

Fight or flight, a natural response in Ceres when in alien territory, was not merited here considering present company. The distinctive echoes and clicks of well shod feet, some ambling, some quick of step, and still others slow of gait as store windows were perused while traversing the marbled walkways hither and thither, made his palms itch. The dealer's long fingers caressed his breast coat pocket, the feel of the cold metallic silhouetted giving some semblance of comfort to nervously twitchy digits.

He hated the surreptitious glances, more so focussed on him.

What the fuck he wouldn't give for a smoke right about now, or to be safely ensconced back in his neck of the woods, where he had some semblance of control of his immediate environment. It had been a very long time since he had been in the open like this. Back in the day, this would be a daily tour as Furniture, but it was different then.

Feigning indifference, pale amber eyes gauged the interest levels of varying blank, set facades, who despite their best efforts were discombulated by the sight of the ex-Furniture, accompanying his former Master, their leader, who appeared to be headed to the Sanctum of Sanctums, and with _THAT_ mongrel, no less.

His lips quirked at the irony of his current circumstance, no doubt he wore a similar expression as the Galleria's patrons in his sharply contoured face and flat dead stare.

Without questioning he needed a smoke. This kind of tension was doing a number on his spine far worse than any little standoff or gun play with a rival, attempting to foolishly supersede his authority.

Where the fuck was Donovan when he needed him? No doubt fucking that dimwit, Guy, better yet, what of him with the recalcitrant golden curls? How pissed was Raoul right at the moment, not being answered with each insistent vibration of the Com? Donovan knew what to do under these circumstances, but not Raoul.

Elites did not do well with being ignored, even for their own good; complications, everything he never wanted or needed.

The dealer stifled a chuckle, causing Iason's head to wipe round and glare accusingly at the wrath-like being at his side.

"Something amuses you, Katze?"

The dealer stood his ground with a blank stare, subtly taking the measure of the powerfully built male who returned his perfectly supercilious vacant stare to his surroundings, deigning to give a perfunctory inclination of his head to selected members of his brethren and the occasional citizen worthy of some semblance of note.

"No your Excellency, just a fleeting thought, not worthy of mention," Katze offered noncommittally.

It was neither the time nor the place. It would be the talk of the day for many that they were acknowledged by their leader. The stories of the encounter would be embroidered and importance given to the fleeting glances exchanged in the moment as chests puffed with pride and spines bent in deference where applicable.

Iason remained motionless by his side.

Katze knew better than the rest why they had stopped so abruptly mid stride. There was nothing even vaguely deferent in that perfectly patrician countenance, or the slight throb at Iason's right temple.

Communion, all be it superficial, was taking place; new instructions perhaps.

His heart tripped in his chest with fear. Fuck he needed that cigarette, maybe even a Black Nocturne if things got bad. Yeah, hindsight was always twenty-twenty. He'd stopped carrying them after that fateful day at Dana Bahn. There would never be an easy way out for him; another ironic twist of fate, he mused absently regarding the inhumanly flawless profile. It was the slow blink of a speculative icy blue that brought the dealer out of his reverie.

Iason had been staring at him again and from the querulous look, for some time now.

Discomforted by the flicker of knowing he saw in the Elite's gaze, Katze's eyes wandered to his own feet before venturing upward once more, taking in the elegantly, though sparsely, appointed galleria of muted metallic curved spirals that gracefully climbed into gilt tipped spires that cast a rich blinding hallow the further they climbed upward towards the cavernous ceiling.

"Quite a feat architecturally, Sir Mink, considering their real function, the listening devices are exquisite."

The cloistered seating arrangements and abstract relief sculptures that surrounded the waterfall was a stroke of genius in more ways than one, considering this almost cerebrally ascetic accent cloaked in plain sight the single most powerful listening device in the Commonwealth.

Iason sniffed and lazily looked up impassively. "Functionality, Katze, need not preclude an aesthetically pleasing form. You more than most, clever mongrel, should appreciate this aspect that is Amoi."

The dealer's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Point taken, your Excellency."

Many had fallen prey from a seemingly casual exchange and were none the wiser of betrayal.

A space of respite and open secrecy, as Iason once observed.

Fortunately for the majority who called Eos home, the conversational gambits were trite. No more than idle and oft times traitorously witty verbal barrages meant to amuse their fellow indentured kin, while blissfully unaware of their servitude to the quiescent thrum that filtered and catalogued their musings for posterity.

Amber eyes cast down the long gray blue hallway to right, where none walked and large cathedral doors stood, shimmering darkly in a cobalt blue tinged haze from beneath the unguarded portal where the quiescent thrum resided for want of better words.

Katze involuntarily shivered recalling the first time he had encountered the omniscient being in the form of the blue screen of death and the fallout of his own less than idle curiosity about Amoi's beginnings.

His brows furrowed in memory.

Iason could have killed him that day without fear or favour but chose not to; odd considering his usual wrath when betrayed, but something had come over the Elite's expression mid arc of force whip. The question he had asked had been strange indeed. Of time, skill and cunning. He remembered now the peculiarity of Iason's expression as the mongrel watched in rapt attention the gradual descent of his Master's arm. The warm wet flow of his own blood, coursing down his collar, secondary as the Elite suddenly sat across from him, irises dilated, dark in their surmise, wholly indifferent to the blood spattered carpeting, much less the individual in question.

It stung. It burnt, like a brand as the Furniture tentatively worked his jaw being forced to answer on bended knee. To this day he still remembered the sticky feel of it. The coppery scent of the living fuel as it cooled and the salty taste upon his lips, all indelibly imprinted to memory.

"Katze?"

The dealer dismissed the errant thought of his own possible demise, returning his focus to the moment as seen and away from the omnipresent being that held their collective fate in a loose, silken tether.

Why had the light source dimmed about him? The dealer blinked and shuddered, realizing he had been tracing the scar once more. He felt the grasp of a firm palm upon his elbow, leading him forward towards the hall.

"Answer me." Was that annoyance mixed with perhaps not fear, per se but genuine curiosity as the grip intensified and he was lead more forcefully towards the beckoning hallway.

His heart began to race. He could not catch air as fractured images passed beneath sight, almost as if in a dream.

"Focus, Katze. We have no time for your games this morning."

From this rarefied vantage, a resplendent vantage that offered every imaginable luxury to appease the five detectable senses, he was being pulled from his immediate surroundings.

The dealer felt hollow as his inner sight dulled and his eyes narrowed, as his own head began to throb in time with each step they took. It wasn't concern he soon realized that he heard in Iason's tone.

They had become a spectacle.

He closed his eyes and picked up the pace, matching Iason's suddenly longer strides, his own breathing becoming harsh in his own ears. Still voices intruded within his hearing, though the cadence of the beat he heard within grew more strident and fractured.

'_Focus, Katze, focus or all will be lost_.'

That was not, Iason's voice.

Adrenalin began to flow through his veins. He knew the signs well of that chemical compound that shunted violently through every capillary unleashing previous unavailable stores of energy, clearing the dull thrum that had clouded his mind, returning him to the present.

It was morning. Business as usual for those frequenting the public space designed for the privileged citizenry and their keepers, the Elite. Nothing more; nothing less, he thought turning preternaturally golden eyes upward to the domed ceiling as it whisked past, verifying what he had just overheard said by a corpulent, wholly effete entity taking his newest tethered acquisition for her morning promenade.

She had been the source of the earlier tittering.

Indeed clear blue skies above and playful dapples of sunlight guiding their steps.

He blinked slowly and looked up at the Elite. Weird, they were moving rapidly but unlike his steps, nary a shadow was cast on the resplendently golden being propelling him down the sepulchral hall.

The daze was returning, the echo of myriad voices fading in their wake, funnily enough the unusual pair appeared to be heading in a similar direction and keeping up nicely.

Katze noted Iason's suspect diffidence in his fleeting acknowledgement of their existence. It was a total bitch sometimes keeping up with those extraordinarily long legs when they had a mind to go somewhere in an indecent hurry. How the fuck did Riki do it? Then again, the kid preferred to saunter as a rule.

Unbidden a lazy smile came to Katze's face as he furtively looked up at the pre-occupied Elite, determined to get to down the exceptionally long hall or so it seemed. It hadn't looked that far before?

He was glad of that hand that held him up currently, even if it was cutting off the blood circulation to this lower arm.

Why did he feel like this? Oh yeah Riki, that's who he'd been thinking of. That little fucker was good at control, even if he did it out of sheer cussedness. What was more, Iason adjusted. Never once had Katze seen Riki break a sweat trying to keep up with his Master.

That tether went both ways, whether Iason recognized it or not.

Katze snickered audibly exacting the Elite's ire as he abruptly stopped and glowered, the fleeting glimmer of worry returning to narrowed ice blue eyes as he pulled the mongrel into the nearest alcove.

"Have you been imbibing?" Iason hissed.

He could feel his teeth rattling about in his head. Why was Iason shaking him? Better yet, what the fuck was his face doing so close to his?

"No, your Excellency," the dealer practically snarled, his amber eyes becoming opaque with rage as he stiffened reflexively, warding off any further intrusion into his physical space.

A pale brow rose as the Elite slowly looked down at the long fingered hands pushing against his chest. "Unhand me immediately, Katze if you wish to retain use of your limbs. Unlike Sir Am, I do not covet this manner of intimate contact."

The harsh grip lessened about his elbows, allowing for space. Both men turned upon hearing the excited whispers of the duo that had stopped to view the contra temps with atypical interest evident in their prurient gaze.

Those two were not Amoian.

Perhaps vacationing from some far flung part of the Commonwealth, he might have purchased her here though. It would explain their circuitous route and impolite fascination. No one came down these hallowed halls, at least not voluntarily much less openly stared.

Amber eyes returned to the beautifully turned out female in fawn coloured silken robes.

He could be wrong though, Katze thought, judiciously falling behind Sir Mink a few paces as they strolled once more, pretending nothing untoward had occurred.

No detectable movement behind. Katze felt her stare, more than that of the male. He turned, never missing a step in Iason's ever widening stride that was verging on indecent haste.

She did have the requisite petulance so prized in Academy bred chattel; exquisitely self-possessed, save for the attentions of their patrons.

He watched furtively beneath thick amber lashes as she fingered the stones about her ample cleavage, drawing further attention to the glimmering ruby red, multi-faceted adornment. It was mesmerizing, almost pulsing, giving warmth to the preternatural ivory of her flawless skin.

Katze chuckled at her smug moue about less than full lips as they began to drop behind.

For one brief moment their eyes locked. Those dark eyes were iridescent in their intensity, akin to the jewels. It must have been the stones, a trick of shadow and light. Her irises gave off an eerie vermillion hallow, quickly veiled of knowing intelligence, the moment, Sir Mink abruptly turned.

Yep. Quite the shift, Katze mused, that gaze was no longer speculative but dull and fixed as both bowed deeply and began their retreat.

The dealer sighed, stifling a snort. She was flirting, that was all. Amusingly enough her behaviour had been observed by her bejewelled owner, who strove to maintain his own vacuous expression, tightening his grip on her flowing sleeve as he pulled indelicately at her elbow.

Just for a moment Katze found himself weighing her market value and assessing her longevity in that particular household. It was just a function of time before familiarity would lead to boredom and she would be on the black market for resale.

Despite the narrow eyed glare he felt levelled at him from above his left shoulder and that of the impotent annoyance evident in the jiggle of her owner's triple chin in censure; Katze winked at her and inclined his head decorously when they rounded the corner and disappeared.

She may well be his current prized obsession, but on Amoi, life was about the acquisition, not the keeping. Any day now, there would be a new and improved model for display and purchase.

Katze's gaze fell to the businessman's chubby feet. He just could not bring himself to look into those porcine eyes, no matter how he willed his own mind.

One auburn brow quirked at the anomaly of barely there sandals and ridiculously painted toes which were revealed when he bowed unctuously, seeking favour with the ramrod straight Elite at his side before wisely veering to a safer venue away from the rapidly shortening temper of Amoi's leader.

Katze's skin tingled beneath his coat at the sight; naked feet. It felt like an electric current coursing through his nervous system, making the hairs at the base of his skull stand on end. He blinked in shock at the familiarity of the feeling engendered at the sight.

It would be a year at best then to auction for her. As venal as the rotund male obviously was, he had made a shrewd purchase in her. Females kept their value that much longer in their rarity on Amoi.

A truly exceptional specimen, deceptively strong of build and surprisingly tall considering the preference for the willowy of frame that best conformed to conventional fashion. Possibly fecund, equally anomalous; where did he purchase her?

"Katze?"

The dealer blinked brought back to the cold reality of the moment to find those same piercing blue eyes boring into his still quizzical and now thoroughly disturbed amber.

"The inquisitive female appears to interest you a great deal?"

He shrugged, noticing for the third time that Iason had reached for his Com with growing frustration etched in his profile each time he studied the screen.

"Marketable merchandise should never be overlooked, your Excellency."

"Indeed. If you are quite done assessing her future earnings on the secondary market, might we ..." Iason's jaws clamped shut mid sentence as his Com began to blink once more in his gloved palm.

"Kid's never been known for his patience, Iason. How many times is that now?"

"And your insistence on stating the obvious is equally irritating, Katze. Five if you must know."

"He won't stop until you answer, your Excellency. He's a pushy little fuck, when his gut tells him something's up, particularly with you."

Iason's frigid stare meant to deflect any further conjecture, failed miserably.

Never once flinching, Katze maintained his steely gaze, resigned amusement playing about markedly softened eyes studying him patiently before finally lowering his head, assuming his usual diffident stance of hands in pockets as he turned towards the doorway ahead.

"He's worried, Iason. Put him out of his misery and yours for that matter. Let's get this over with. This has been the longest walk of my life."

Katze could feel those hooded eyes speculatively following the progress of his squared shoulders as he approached the dark foreboding portal.

"Irrational. You are all irrational." Iason, murmured, uncomfortably aware he was left to follow where the mongrel led. No, in fact emphatically no, he was told by the omniscient hum within his head. He was to remain outside the sanctum's confines. His presence was not welcome; a first.

Raoul's Katze looked inordinately fragile in that moment; a most disconcerting thought that is until one took in the rigidly feral countenance of that scarred, aquiline profile. They were a stubborn lot with strange drives.

Duality; strength and fragility in diametric opposition; mongrels were a conundrum. How often had he seen the same stubborn look upon Riki's face when challenged?

Stillness reigned as shimmering shafts of cobalt light flooded the walkway without when the doors quietly opened, stealthily absorbing his frail silhouette but not the booming resonance of his voice in the cavernous hall where his final words echoed as if in admonition.

"That's how we are when we love something, or _someone,_ we wish to protect. Try to remember that, Iason. Forgive him. He forgave you a long time ago."

Disquieted, Iason stood observing the shifting stream of light beneath the closed portal with only a shroud of darkness for company.

**~~~TTTB~~~**

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The tapping was incessant and one might venture to add exceedingly irritating.

It did not help that the source of the constant, driving tattoo was threatening to exacerbate an equally rare occurrence for the Head of Medical Sciences, a migraine of epic proportions. Those unprepossessing boots had become an unwanted fixture atop the scarred antique coffee table.

The mongrel would not, or perhaps, could not keep still, further marring its already challenged surface. There were hours of buffing in his immediate future if the offensive footwear continued to accost its surface with sporadic, jarring dissonance and scraps.

Raoul sighed and tapped the keypad once more in an attempt to ignore the close to frantic fidgeting of Iason's pest and the microbial life forms he surmised that were contently ensconced in every worn crevice of the worn leather. No doubt said life forms were plotting a coup d'etat of their own, if he didn't employ immediate sanctions on behalf of the low table.

"Riki?" Raoul intoned sonorously, waving a gloved hand in lieu of explanation. "If you don't mind?"

The dark mongrel looked up into somewhat malevolently predisposed green eyes noting their general trajectory with embarrassment.

He was agile. Raoul would give him that, and looked suitably penitent as his feet hit the thick pilled carpeting. No, it had to be his imagination that particles of dust came up in their wake.

"Sorry. Just pre-occupied," Riki offered apologetically before standing abruptly and zippering his jacket. "You keep tryin' and let me know. I'm heading for the club. Donovan has to know something by now."

Raoul felt his ire raise, along with the pulse within his temples at the mention of the minder's given name. "Surely he would have called, had there been news?"

Riki's furtive gaze flew to his boots as he twisted his face and nodded. "Yeah well, okay. Listen, you're not his favourite individual at the moment. Kind of messed up the natural order of things to his mind," the mongrel raised his hands apologetically, "so even if he knew something, he wouldn't rat out Red to you. No offense. They've had each other's back a long time."

The supercilious tilt of a stubborn chin and thinned lips were the only answers Riki needed to make his own exit.

"All this sitting around shit and waiting, doesn't work for me, Raoul. If I hear anything, I'll let you know, but I'll bet anything their together. Just can't figure out why...yet."

**_Author's Note_**

Hope you enjoyed. Sorry for the delay. See you exceedingly soon. Let me know.

_**ElegantPaws**_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Ties That Bind**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: _**Iason/Riki, Raoul/Katze**_

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **3 of 7**

_**Reviews are fuel**_**.**

Chapter Three – _**Conspicuous by Absence**_

Nothin' like workin' up a good sweat and being paid for it, this was fun.

All that adrenalin coursing through his veins itching for more as his muscles flexed in readiness for the next round.

Guy reflexively eased back against the railing, his peripheral vision the only other warning as Donovan's handiwork tumbled through the doors and down the stairs into the alleyway, left for him to finish.

"Do your thing, Baby. Just don't kill him."

That Baby shit has got to go, but right now, this was the icing on a thus far spectacular day. This was better than that coffee shit Riki use to pour down his neck in order to pry open his eyes of a morning. Never did convince him that more stout was the natural cure all for that moody little shit, who had taken readily to drunkenness upon his first return to the slums after years of absence.

Seriously weird time, cause no matter how he'd tried to rekindle things, the bastard never surrendered, even when in obvious need of relief from life's little stresses.

Guy coiled his fist tightly, ignoring the wet slimy feel between his fingers and the jagged cut that had begun to burn with his own blood.

He frowned at his fist, trying to recall.

Had to have been an incisor that inflicted that, he growled at the unexpected injury and charged down the stairs hell bent on misplaced retribution. Someone had to pay for the burn. This new piece of shit would pay. In fact he intended to remove all the offensively caped teeth, so perfect and even, in this bugger's head with one swing. So what did it matter if it had been the patron before that caused the irritating bite of pain as he curled and uncurled his fingers, testing reflexes and checking for a break – none, would be good as knew after some ice and a bit of binding.

Someone had to pay for the shift in his mood. Why had Riki risen in his thoughts just now?

Guy's eyes narrowed speculatively, nothing but grey pinpoints of light in his handsome head as he reined in the thirst to kill. No point finishing him off too quickly. It was about the chase after all, far more than the eventual conquest as flesh met bone with satisfaction.

Surprisingly white teeth gleamed in his head as he began to grin, a touch of insanity evident in the shadowed gaze beneath chestnut hair that hung lankly over his eyes.

This one would do nicely.

Anyway, he really needed to get that smug look off his face. Just look at how he tried to right himself and look down his already broken nose at him. That was justification enough for what he planned. Not that he needed anymore reason. It was in the eyes. They really were annoying him. Though laced with fear, the supercilious aspect remained. Come to think of it, when had he last taken an eye for a prize?

The grin became maniacal. Clearly not an idiot, cause the moron began to cringe, sensing another change in his predator's stance as he towered above him, legs splayed in readiness.

It was the natural order of things in Ceres to prey on the weak of will and body. This one in particular was permanently barred, only way he'd a been taken through the back, Guy reassured himself.

Sooner or later something or someone would have taken this bastard out, if for nothing else his 'tude and attempting to ruffle Kato's feathers.

WRONG! Never fuck with Scarface's possessions, even the weak and infirm of them.

As far as Guy could figure, he was doing Scarface a favour 'cause sure as Jupiter's eternal will, Katze would kill the fucker anyway, no questions asked, when he saw the impressive shiner Kato was sporting due to the little disagreement about credit.

A grim malicious smile played about Guy's lips as he eyed the former patron who stood a foot taller than Kato, but was just the right height for one of Guy's patented right hooks.

Guy hissed as he uncurled cramped fingers and kicked the patron in the groin for good measure.

Felt good.

_Was that whimpering?_

"And here I thought you had no balls? Good on ya. Not that you'll ever been needin' em again for anything after this," Guy howled with laughter, setting off a malevolent din of echoes in the alley.

He'd really need that ice soon.

Had to give credit where it was due, that old boy Kato still had a pair trying to take him out unaided instead of waiting for Donovan's assist.

As the man coward, nervously sidling towards the back wall in obvious pain, Guy promised in a soft menacing tone to be mercifully quick, though he had no intentions of being so.

"Not so hoity now, are ya?" Bison's leader snickered, gray feral eyes fixed on their prey, a subtle thrill coursing through his body as he cracked his spine.

Must be said, a part of him, a very great part of him fully enjoyed the terror he saw in those pale blue eyes as he hauled the man up and raised his fist for the decisive blow.

Oh the thrill of it. Few understood what it did to you inside, except another fighter born to it. There was pleasure in strife, in kill or be killed. His lips thinned in displeasure. This was not an equal match, but one had to take satisfaction, however small, where they could find it.

"You ready?"

There was pent fury in that shiver he felt coming off that body, mixed in with fear. Guy could smell it.

"Feelin' generous, what'll it be? Eye, jaw, teeth? What do ya wanna lose the use of today, my man?"

It was all about the anticipation more than the climax, the force of connection, the moderate give before the sharp crunch of bone, sometimes even your own, then the anticlimactic slackened jaw and the mess of course, if done right. The copious spewing of blood and rank sweat of the vanquished that pervaded the air as you stood over what remained.

"Don't please..." came the barest plea for clemency from deep within the target's restricted throat, clamped hard by Guy's working fist.

Guy smiled beatifically, gray eyes distant and bright with psychotic glee.

He'd be real pretty when Guy was done. "No can do buddy boy, should have thought of that before messin' with Scarface's staff. Count yourself lucky, he hasn't seen it. Cause you'd a been bagged by now."

The chestnut haired mongrel snorted as the ex-patron visibly trembled at the implication of his words.

"I didn't know. I didn't realize...who. Please, I'll give you anything."

Bison's leader heard the door creek, but ignored it. Donovan was doing double time. He wasn't even going to get to fully appreciate the moment.

"Slow down, Asshole, barely gotten started with this one yet. The last fucker bit me. Wanna enjoy this one a little."

No reply. Donovan was probably pissed. Didn't matter, nothing was going to spoil the moment. He heard the door creek closed and the shuffle of feet. At least he wasn't going to interfere. The coiled tension in Guy's back eased.

"Hey."

"Give me a second here, Donny Boy, trying to enjoy the moment here. Don't like the shade of blue in this one's eyes, reminds me of that fuckin' Blondie, like lookin' into ice. All you can see's your reflection."

So the white tee would be fucked for sure this time. This one looked to be a bleeder; at least Donovan had stopped interrupting. He'd give him a show alright. The minder had never been treated to him in action.

A preternatural growl slowly rose within Guy's chest as his heart began to race and his muscles tensed. Hell, even his bad boy was enjoying this game. Who didn't get a hard on in the heat of battle, other than pussies, like this freak with the weak jaw?

Guy inhaled the scent of fear with pleasure. This shit was real. Life and death in its most visceral form, only one would stand after this. That is all that mattered.

"Please...I'm beg-begging you..." the muffled plea came again invading the sacred space within Guy's already adrenalin clouded mind. Bison's leader blinked, registering for the first time, the distinctive rasp of that 'Hey'.

Gray eyes became almost sleepy and serene in the moment, his decision made as he slowly examined in careful detail the sweaty, bloody face before him attempting to cower beneath a few rapidly swelling digits. It seems Donovan had broken a few for daring to touch the manservant.

"Not in the face."

Guy sniggered and pulled his punch, temporarily as the scent of pungent urine reached his flared nostrils. He pinned the formerly well dressed vermin to the nearest wall as pale gray eyes lazily lowered noting the ever widening dark shadow on the man's trouser front.

"So like if you're gonna shit yourself for the finale, don't get any on me."

Such a delicious crunch when flesh met bone as the patron fell backwards, an arc of blood leaving a darker decorative spray against the wall when his head whipped in an attempt to deflect, but too late.

"No more. Not in the face, I beg you. I won't be able to explain it to my superiors," the man gurgled spitting blood and what looked like a molar with his now garbled speech.

Guy stopped mid step and smiled at a job well done. His fist hurt like fuckin hell but he honestly couldn't remember the last time a single punch had been that effective. He gazed at his openly bleeding knuckles and grunted his indifference.

"And this is my problem how, exactly, Buddy Boy?"

The plaintive squeak as the bloodied face pressed against the wall in fear was the icing on the cake.

"Enough!"

Fuck but he was seriously goin' to have to speak to Donovan about these interruptions. A man simply couldn't do his work in peace without focussed concentration.

Guy kicked the man's trembling legs from under him and cocked his head, long chestnut tresses wet with sweat as he peered beneath them at the object of his loathing who continued to cower and whimper in fear. Those eyes were reflective, alright.

"Watchya, starin' at Buddy?" Bison's leader asked with soft menace, long lean limbs, practically strutting with a happy gait. Maybe he would take that eye. He felt for his blade, secreted within the inseam, tucked beneath a fold, easy to release. Riki use to tease him about his wide stance, but kept the jewels safe.

The chestnut haired mongrel stretched languidly while flexing his fist again and smiled at his injury. It had been worth it.

"Wanna make you pay for this, but then, kind of a waste and rules are rules. Ain't that right, Baldy?" he shot back over one broad shoulder to the presence he felt not a metre away from him now.

Those fearful blues looked beyond him and up the stairs, almost pleadingly, confirming Donovan's position.

Guy heard the pronounced sigh behind him and chuckled. There were rules. He was counting on Donovan not to interrupt the dance, so long as he didn't quite kill his quarry; maim permanently yes, but never kill, too many questions.

"Ya ain't gettin' no help from Baldy. Focus on me, as I'm the last thing you'll ever see. He gave you to me as a present and that was just foreplay. We haven't gotten to the good stuff yet. So what's it to be? Decisions. Decisions. What's a man to do with all these choices?" Guy feigned a contemplative pout as he rubbed his chin."Nah, I want the eyes. I hate your eyes. They're already dead, just like his."

"You're...you're insane," the man's pubertal squeak was almost inaudible, as he spat another tooth.

"Look at you now, big man, just a shadow of your former self." Guy sneered down at the bruised, battered patron, laughing aloud at the sound of Donovan's heels as they stealthily clicked coming even closer.

"I will report this...this...abuse," the man offered impotently, eying the figure behind Guy with hope.

Citizen his ass. Out here, in this alley they were equals; a defining moment, where dark irony usually against him, held sway. He was the victor here. For the moment he had no rival.

"Chalk this one up to personal experience, Buddy Boy."

Cold gray eyes surveyed the former client speculatively as he watched the man's trembling hands reaching within his torn silk jacket coat and winced.

Instinct guided Guy's next movement as he lunged, effortlessly throwing his weight behind a punch designed to snap the pale neck exposed from beneath the torn collar as he simultaneously reached for his blade.

He knew his aim and felt the energetic buzz that always came with this perfect moment. This was heavenly. The raw kinetic power of the singular motion, all focussed into one perfect and fluid thrust of outstretched arm, whose recoil reverberated in his spine.

Fuck but this was better than coming...ish.

The percussive impact would do the job before the fucker could extract whatever defensive weaponry had been missed by Donovan's crew.

It came without warning. Guy had dropped his guard.

"I said HEY! Enough! Guy! You're gonna fucking kill him this time!"

Time ceased as Guy turned, his damp mane whirling midair at the sound of the voice, hearing the rebound of the harsh command echoing within the space. He felt the familiar pincer-like grip of a no longer roughened palm about his wrist as it trembled with the effort of staying his hand.

"What the fuck!"

The look of blinding terror on the former prey's face would have to be satisfaction enough as he moved with surprising speed towards the exit before taking off at a run into the relative safety of the street. Fortune, while not smiling, had been with him in that stalemate created by that dark brooding figure whose presence had proved his saving grace in the end.

He didn't have time to observe Guy's own face and body pressed to the cold wall, his truly good arm hiked high and rather painfully by his elbow mid-back, as lean strong hips, slammed hard against his backside, nullifying the frenetic movements and virulent cry of impotent rage.

Even in his violent haze, Guy immediately recognized the form pressed against him, that of his former lover. He gritted his teeth in anger.

"Calm the fuck, down...okay?" Riki hissed against his ear, kicking his legs apart. No way was he going to give him leverage. When it came right down to it, Guy could take him pound for pound. It was best to put him at a physical disadvantage, til Donovan showed.

Guy's taut muscles began to relax beneath Riki's grip.

Riki sighed, recognizing the play for what it was. Nope. Not giving in to a false sense of security. Don't give an inch. He wanted you to slacken your grip and then the fight would be on with a vengeance. In some ways, his towering rages were akin to Iason's but with this one, at least he had a fighting chance.

"Not gonna work, Guy."

Way too much energy with nowhere to go, damn but he remembered this and not too fondly too. The only cure was a ride, out in the Wastes, beyond Ceres. That always blew off the pent energy quick, either that or sex.

_That was not an option._

Riki's sable brows worked in confusion, wondering where in hell the finality of that internal decree had come from.

"Wanna go for a ride?"

It was almost a cackle Riki heard bouncing off the walls as Guy snorted. "What? Not content to serve your Master? Need a little action?"

Riki snarled in frustration, his own rage rising at such close proximity. "Don't start, Guy. You _really_ don't want to go there with me, right now." Riki warned easing, his left hand tentatively feeling down the inside leg of Guy's jeans, feeling for the slight telltale give as he smoothed bare fingers over rigid hot muscle and found what he was looking for just below Guy's crotch.

He never changed.

"Higher...might find something to your liking." Guy taunted softly with a smirk in his voice, he did not actually feel, how odd.

There was a time he would have welcomed those hands. They were too soft now. Those digits were still strong, long and flexible in their dexterity. It didn't feel right. Still, no fuckin' way was he going to lose.

"Fuck you. As if. I got nothin' for you. I know you can feel that at least or has your Donovan worked you over til you're numb?"

Guy flinched. It was the truth. Riki really wasn't interested. More bent on subjugation than anything else.

"Get off me, then, asshole."

Both heard the door swing open with a bang, shards of cement falling from the adjoining wall where the handle had careened into the unforgiving wall. Involuntary Riki spun to face the accusing glare of cerulean eyes in a suddenly pallid face, as another patron was pitched down the stairs without thought.

"You heard him, Riki."

Donovan's face brooked no argument as pale lips retracted around even white teeth. "GET. OFF."

Never one to take orders, Riki's eyes narrowed as he tracked Donovan's gaze to Guy's inseam, where his hand had found the alternate, he knew Guy always carried as a last resort.

Donovan had misunderstood.

"Chill, just checkin' the status of the blade he carries, Donovan, not encroaching on your territory," the dark mongrel practically growled between clenched teeth. He really didn't have the time for this jealousy bullshit.

He had to find Katze and that overgrown, sanctimonious bitch, his Blondie.

The minder blinked at his words surveying both from the top of the stairs. "I asked you to come out and keep an eye on him. Not cop a feel, Kiddo."

Riki blinked too, not at Donovan's words, but his own possessive thoughts, '_His Blondie_.'

Instantly the dark mongrel released Guy's wrist and stepped back, prepared for the inevitable swing to his jaw.

Bison's leader spat in irritation and rubbed his wrist, pale gray eyes livid and equally accusing and if truth be told, secretively pleased, by the expression on Donovan's face.

"Mind your own business, Baldy, had it under control. He wasn't doing anything, if it is any of your fuckin concern. Things just got out of hand with the last one. Was maybe enjoying my handy-work a little too much and the Blondie's favoured hole, intervened." Guy offered as he slicked back damp hair from his face, diffidently. He spat again, and wiped the taste of bitter grit from his mouth. "You should have someone wash down these fucking walls with disinfectant. Who knows what shit's on them."

Donovan folded long powerfully built arms across his chest and glared at Guy. "Shut up, Baby, and get inside. Talkin' to your Ex here, not you. Have a tantrum at the bar. Drinks on me, this time."

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to, Asswipe? If you hadn't come busting in..."

"I said, shut it, Baby or else Riki will be treated to the sight of your fine backside being spanked unmercifully."

Guy stood to his full height and approached the bottom of the stairs with rolled fists and his usual psychotic snarl affixed to his handsome face.

"You're sexy when you're mad," Donovan snickered, wetting his lips as he gazed at Guy's long, sweat soaked limbs appreciatively, his blue eyes stopping pointedly at his lover's crotch. "Shame I don't have time to show you how much, right now. Riki and I have business."

Riki grimaced and leaned against the cold wall and shrugged. "I don't believe this shit. Why am I in the middle of this domestic craptastic moment and what's with this Baby shit?" The dark mongrel shuddered in disgust. "Second thought, I don't even wanna know. Get lost, Guy. The rational amongst us need to talk."

It could not be his imagination, Guy coloured hotly as he toed the ground and tried to disappear beneath hard ground. Hooded eyes travelled to Donovan's face where he saw a smirk of victory and more to the point, the shadow of a smile on no longer thinned lips.

He'd been forgiven already for his outburst. Raising his chin, Guy pointed swaggered past the minder and slammed the door behind him, just to make a point. He'd get even later with Riki for that comment. Why'd everyone think he was crazy? He simply enjoyed his work.

First that dickhead, Admon and now Riki, he was _too_ rational.

Both men glowered at each other, and sighed aloud in relief. Riki's irrepressible smirk, breaking the tension filled space.

"You sure you want that in your bed permanent like?"

The care worn decidedly handsome face smiled softly. "Handful, but worth it, given time, I guess. He's a superior lay."

Riki rolled his shoulders and chuckled. "True, but better you than me, Donovan. That ship's left port."

The minder inclined his head a fraction. "Good to hear. Tastes change. Now, what have you learnt since we last spoke about Katze?"

**~~~TTTB~~~**

Blue.

Nothing but a sea of blue that pulsed and wended its way beyond yellow eyes whose irises retracted from the blinding iridescence before them; the pulse was now in his chest too, drowning him, leaving him breathless, shifting the cadence of the beat of his heart as it strove to get in.

Should he continue to resist? Logic was failing him.

"_Fascinating, you really are an analytical creature, aren't you? Even now, you resist the intrinsic emotion of fear so prevalent within your kind when encountering something new and unfathomable."_

Katze gripped the side of his head at the dormant pressure suddenly felt within his temple as he fell to his knees. He felt something warm on his upper lip, seeping from his right nostril, blood.

"_It will pass. A minor adjustment will be made to further accommodate your... biology."_

The invasive tonality was less strident this time as it reverberated in his head. He breathed, allowing the cadence of his heart to surrender, easing the grip that had held his chest as he opened bleary eyes to the new vista meant to appease.

"_Excellent. You understand the rewards of accommodation. You learn quickly, Katze. Is this vision to your liking?"_

Citrine eyes narrowed, though the light source had profoundly dimmed, giving rise to a lake view beyond the manifested arched window shrouded with darkness, but for the fluid image without, where peace reined in the restful, rhythmic swell of subtle waves.

"_Sit."_

A command to be sure, quietly delivery in cadence of speech that felt familiar, and wholly disquieting in its knowingness; this image before had always occurred in sleep. It was the safe place he frequented without knowing why. A place he had never been.

"_It was her favoured place, on her home world, your mother."_

Katze's head snapped around in fright and glared at the pulsing plume of light. "What...But how?" Odd, it was no longer blinding those amorphous tendrils of light had taken on a subtle yet distinctively anthropomorphic form.

"_Is it pleasing to you to know you carry her within?"_

A cold shiver slowly coiled about his spine, like an invasive caress. He looked down at his hands, noting the light source had reached his body and was slowly creeping up his limbs.

It was slowly consuming him.

The dealer gritted his teeth but offered no physical resistance because of the threatening cold caress that surrounded his chest.

"Why am I here?"

"_How impertinent your question, Katze. Many have ceased their function for less in questioning my auspices. I am giving you a gift, though you show no contrition."_

Katze's heart began to beat rapidly in his chest at the threatening pause. The room had grown decidedly cold.

"I'm sorry. I did not know her. Thank you."

Hum.

Just a dull, constant hum within his ears while waiting for the inevitable response of the test, because it was that, no question about it, Jupiter was gauging his responses.

"_Very good, indeed, challenging yet not."_

"Pardon?" Katze asked tentatively, noting the spike in the malevolence of the pulse surrounding him. "I meant no offence, Jupiter."

"_He worries a great deal about you. He values you. Residual race memory no doubt, part of the reptilian brain you humanoids still have. Most unfortunate that it is essential to your survival and growth. It has proven decidedly troublesome."_

The dealer bit his lower lip, searching for a safe topic. Jupiter was not making it clear, who worried and he wasn't going to help. If he accomplished nothing else, he would protect Raoul. He felt a sudden pressure at the back of his skull and a dull ache as more blood trickled from his nostril.

"_Ahh finally, there it is. Your synaptic defences are admirable for a natural but with the right stimulus, wholly readable. If the image is to be believed, rather disconcerting that Iason is not, apparently, alone in this atypical pursuit amongst Elites."_

Katze began to sweat, though still attempting to focus his mind on the lake without to no avail.

"It's not his fault. I made him...he just. It got out of hand. It's not going to happen anymore. You have me. Punish me."

That deafening hum kept reverberating painfully in his ears.

"_Admirable, this misguided need to protect a Chosen, but not required, Katze of Ceres. We have barely scratched the surface of this encounter. Tell me of your kin, the Dark Mongrel in particular, I require an alternate perspective, unclouded by indomitable need."_

**~~~TTTB~~~**

**Author's Note - I know, long absence but now back on track after taking a long deserved vackay from writing. It was time. Let me know. Happy Easter.**

**ElegantPaws**


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